


Junkyard Dean

by DeansDirtyLittleSecret



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 12:02:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17120993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeansDirtyLittleSecret/pseuds/DeansDirtyLittleSecret
Summary: When Dean needs a part for Baby, he visits a local junkyard, owned by you. The two of you have an immediate connection.





	1. A Normal Day (Dean's POV)

I checked my phone again, making sure I was going the right direction. I pressed the gas pedal lightly and listened closely as my Baby made that sound again, the one that just didn’t sound right to my ears. If I knew anything, it was when something was wrong with my car. I was pretty sure I knew exactly what the problem was, too, which was why I had used my phone to find a local junkyard. I was hoping they had the part I needed. Normally, I would have just called, but Sam had been in a mood and I wanted an excuse to get out of the motel room for a while. Quite frankly, I needed some time away from my brother.

I found the junkyard easily enough, thanks to the GPS on my phone. I pulled through the narrow gate and parked in the small lot, taking up two spaces. I looked around as I climbed out of the car, trying, as usual, to take note of as much of my surroundings as possible. There was a small shop at the back of the parking lot, attached to what looked like a large garage with a huge door. Broken and busted cars stretched out behind it farther than I could see. It was a warm day, so I stripped off my long sleeve button down shirt and tossed it on the front seat. I slid my gun out of the waistband of my jeans and tucked it under the driver’s side seat, within easy reach should I need it. I slipped my keys in my front pocket as I walked up the short staircase and into the shop.

The bell attached to the door made a cheery jingling sound when I opened it. There was a girl standing behind the counter on the phone, her back to the door. I crossed my arms and waited as she finished her conversation.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wilson, but I have to go,” she said. I could hear the irritation in her voice and I wondered if the customer on the phone could too. “Another customer just came in,” she continued. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you.” She hung up the phone with a loud sigh and turned around.

Her mouth dropped open slightly, something I’d actually gotten used to over the years. I saw her eyes drift over me and I couldn’t help the smirk I felt falling naturally into place. I was not unaccustomed to girls checking me out.

I’d been wrong about her though; she wasn’t a girl, she was a woman. An attractive woman at that. She was pretty, in a way that didn’t usually grab my attention - no short skirt or tight, curve-hugging top that emphasized her breasts. She was wearing shorts and a Wonder Woman t-shirt that clung nicely to the curves she did have, though it was obvious the outfit had been picked for comfort, not to grab attention. She had beautiful Y/E/C eyes and a radiant smile.  I glanced at her hands out of habit and I noticed her nails were short, but clean, though they had the look of hands that were used for manual labor, not a desk job. There was a smudge of grease on her cheekbone and I found myself wanting to reach out and wipe it off.

She crossed her arms, mimicking me, and I realized I’d been staring.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice was pleasant, but I detected a slight edge, like she expected me to be an asshole and she was getting prepared for it.

“You the owner?” I asked, mostly out of curiosity. I couldn’t care less, as long as she could help me find the part I needed.

“Well, my father is, but I’ve worked here all my life,” she replied. “What can I help you with?” This time, the edge to her voice was definitely there. I’d probably pissed her off with my question.

“I need a part for my car,” I explained, hoping I didn’t sound condescending.  “I was hoping to take a look around, see if I could find it?” I decided I better play nice. The woman behind the counter did not look like someone I wanted to piss off.

“Do you know what you’re looking for?” she asked. I was pretty sure that was skepticism I heard in her voice.

I tried not to laugh. It was obvious she was judging me now, probably based on my looks. I got that a lot, more than people realized. It was irritating, which was why I tried not to do the same thing to the women I encountered.

I sighed and stopped myself from rolling my eyes. “Um, yeah,” I said. “My…uh…adopted father owned a junkyard. Practically grew up there. And I know my way around a car. So, yeah, I know what I’m looking for. Can you help me or not?” I was pretty sure I sounded irritated now.

She must have heard it in my voice, because her demeanor immediately changed.  “Sure,” she answered, apparently ready to be helpful. “What’s the make and model of your car?” She jiggled a mouse sitting on the counter, obviously waking up her computer.

“It’s a ‘67 Chevy Impala,” I answered.

Her eyes widened in surprise. “No way,” she said. “God, I love the ‘67 Impala. They were gorgeous. My grandpa had one. I loved that car. He sold it while I was still in high school. I didn’t talk to him for weeks, I was so upset. I was hoping to buy it off of him when I was old enough to drive.  Is your’s a four door or two door?”

I was surprised at the sudden sharing of information, but I liked listening to her talk. I smiled to myself, pleased I had learned a little something about her. Then I immediately wondered why I was happy to learn anything about this woman.

“Four door,” I finally answered, though a bit skeptically. I’d grown accustomed to people trashing my Baby because she was a four door instead of a two door and I immediately went on the defensive.  When the woman didn’t say anything, I continued. “And she is gorgeous, a real beauty.” I could feel the smile creeping over my face as I talked about my car. She was the one thing I had in this fucked up world that wasn’t, well, fucked up.  “She’s right outside, would you like to take a look?” I asked. I loved any opportunity to show Baby off, especially to someone I thought would appreciate her almost as much as I did.

“Really?” the woman asked, a huge grin spreading across her face. “I would love to see it.” She came around the end of the counter and I was pretty sure she was bouncing a little bit. It made me laugh.

“Name’s Dean, by the way,” I chuckled as I pushed open the door and gestured for her to go out ahead of me.

“Y/N,” she replied. “Nice to meet….” She stopped dead in her tracks in front of me. “Wow!”

In that second, I could tell she loved cars. It was written all over her face. Her eyes lit up as she looked at Baby and a smile brightened her face, making her even prettier. She hurried down the steps and over to the Impala. I could see her eyes taking in every inch of Baby’s perfect exterior, an exterior I took meticulous care of, sometimes spending hours looking for dings or chips in her paint. The look on Y/N’s face as she examined my car seemed to make that all worthwhile.

As I watched, she reached her hand out to touch Baby, stopping just short of placing her hand on the hood. She glanced over at me, waiting for my permission and damn it, that might have just been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a woman do. I nodded at her, watching her closely as she placed her hand on Baby’s hood. I didn’t realize I wasn’t breathing until her hand rubbed over the smooth surface and I let out a barely controlled breath.

“She’s stunning,” Y/N whispered.

I could feel the smile on my face broadening. For some reason, I’d wanted this woman to like my car and the fact that she did pleased me.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “She is, isn’t she?” My brain shifted into car mode, a subject I never tired of, and I launched into a detailed description of the Impala’s specs. I was sure I was boring Y/N to tears, but I loved talking about my car. Except when I looked over at her standing by the Impala, she had a smile on her face and it was obvious she was listening intently to everything I was saying.

“So, you said you needed a part,” Y/N finally said when I shut up long enough for her to say something. “What’s wrong with her?”

I smiled to myself at the fact that she had adapted my use of “her” for the Impala, almost immediately. I spent the next few minutes explaining exactly what I thought was wrong with Baby. By the time I was done, Y/N was nodding at me. I watched her as she crossed the small parking lot and grabbed the handle of the heavy garage door.

“Why don’t you pull her in here?” she offered, pushing the door up and open. “I think I have what you need.”

I smiled at her as I dug my keys from my pocket and climbed into Baby. I drove her carefully into the huge garage, parking her where Y/N indicated. My afternoon had just gotten a lot more interesting.

* * *

When I finally took a second to look at my watch, I couldn’t believe how much time had passed. I’d been here for hours, first fixing my car with Y/N’s help and then just talking to her, something I didn’t normally do. I loved how much she knew about cars, at least as much as me, if not more, and it had been a subject we’d thoroughly discussed, starting with Baby and moving on from there. One subject had bled into another and I found myself asking her questions just to get her to talk. She’d told me about going to school and her decision to return to help run the family business, drawing a chuckle from me as well as an understanding nod. She told me about the cars she’d fixed up, the customers she’d helped, even what a pain it was to be a good mechanic and be completely unappreciated for it. I didn’t say much, instead giving vague answers to any questions she’d asked and quickly steering the conversation back to her. I really enjoyed listening to her talk, her voice was soothing and nice to listen to. Not to mention, she was easy on the eyes.

I was actually surprised that I found her attractive, not because she wasn’t, but because I didn’t normally go for her type. My type, according to Sam anyway, was the kind of girls I usually found in the bars we visited. Girls like Y/N made me wonder if that was really my type or if those were the only girls I could find considering our nomadic lifestyle. Girls like Y/N didn’t want a guy that breezed into town, slept with them and rolled right out again. They wanted a guy that would stick around. And that wasn’t me.

“The sun’s going down,” Y/N said, interrupting my train of thought. “I really need to lock up.”

I nodded, understanding the subtle hint. Time for me to go. I put my hand on the Impala’s door handle. “This was great,” I said. “I’ve never met a girl who knew as much about cars as you.” The entire time I was talking, I was wracking my brain, trying to come up with a reason to stay. Telling her I’d been wanting to kiss her for the last couple of hours probably wouldn’t work. It would probably get me a slap to the face.

“Beer!” Y/N suddenly shouted, startling me.

“What?” I asked, chuckling slightly.

“Sorry,” she giggled, shaking her head. “What I meant to say was, do you want a beer? I’ve got some in the fridge inside. I could maybe order a pizza or something, too.”

God, I loved her laugh. I could tell she was nervous, her cheeks had turned a lovely shade of pink. I resisted the urge to tease her about it.

“Pizza sounds great and a beer sounds even better,” I replied, smiling widely. Any excuse to stick around longer sounded great.

“Give me a few minutes,” she said and then she was hurrying through a door I knew led into the office.

I leaned against the car and watched her walk away. I glanced at my watch again. I’d already been gone for several hours and I was sure Sam was wondering where I was. I pulled my phone from my pocket, intent on calling him. He’d be pissed and no matter what I said, he would think I was out getting laid. I pulled his number up and put the phone to my ear, waiting, trying to figure out exactly what I would say to him.

“What the hell, Dean?” he answered. “I thought you were out getting a part for your car. You’ve been gone for hours.”

“Well, hello to you, too,” I shot back. “And I am. Or I was. But something came up….”

“Probably your dick,” Sam muttered.

“So I’m running late,” I said, choosing to ignore my brother’s comment.

“Obviously,” Sam grumbled. “How much longer are you going to be gone? This werewolf situation isn’t going to take care of itself.”

“I have no idea,” I told him. One set of the overhead lights suddenly came on and I looked up to see Y/N crossing the garage toward me, two bottles of beer in her hand.

“You don’t know?” Sam asked. I could tell by the tone of his voice that he was getting pissed. I would just have to explain everything once I got back to the motel.

“No, I don’t know,” I repeated, rolling my eyes.

“You are so full of bullshit,” Sam snapped. “You’re probably at some bar, and you’ve picked up some woman, that’s why you’re quote, unquote, running late. You piss me off, you know that, right?”

“Yeah, well that wasn’t my intention, but shit happens,” I said.

I hated it when Sam was pissed off at me, and I wanted to tell him the truth, except not when Y/N was standing right there. I would wait. I listened to Sam bitch me out for a few more minutes until he ran out of steam.

“Whatever,” Sam finally wrapped up. “Do what you gotta do.”

“Later,” I mumbled. Sam hung up without saying another word.

I looked up, right into Y/N’s face. I didn’t like what I saw. If I’d overheard that conversation, I know what I would have thought. And by the look on her face, that was exactly what she was thinking - that I’d been on the phone with a girlfriend or a wife.

“My brother,” I quickly explained, smiling reassuringly as I pointed at my phone. “We’re traveling together, kind of a road trip. He’s irritated I’m dumping him for the night to hang out with you.”

“If you need to go,” she muttered. But I didn’t think she meant it.

“Nope, I’m good,” I reassured her. I didn’t want to go anywhere.

Y/N held a bottle of beer out as she leaned beside me against the Impala. “Pizza should be here in ten minutes or so,” she said.

I took the bottle and twisted off the top. “Ten minutes, huh?” I asked.

She nodded. I took a long drink from my beer, watching her out of the corner of my eye. I decided to just take a chance, so I turned to face her, put my hand on her waist, leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips I’d been staring at all day and wanting to kiss for at least the last two hours. I breathed in her scent, soap and vanilla and a faint trace of engine oil.

I finally pulled away, even though I really didn’t want to. “Was that okay?” I whispered.

“Yeah, definitely,” Y/N nodded, an adorable smile on her face.

“Thank God, because I’ve been wanting to do that for hours,” I said. I blew out a breath, relief flooding me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been worried about being rejected.

Y/N slapped her hand over her mouth, a giggle slipping through. I loved to hear her laugh, it made me feel better than I’d felt in a long time. I chuckled along with her. I wanted her in my arms again, her lips on mine.

“Come here,” I said, pulling her into my arms, pressing my lips to hers.

She complied, letting me pull her into my arms and against my chest. She stood on her tiptoes to reach my mouth. I felt her sigh as I licked across her lips, her breath mingling with mine. I could taste mint and beer as I slipped my tongue into her mouth. She slid her arms around my waist, her hands running up and down my back. It felt good to hold someone in my arms, someone warm and soft, someone without an agenda, who just wanted to be there because she could. I held her, wrapped in my arms, kissing her until an annoying buzzing sound interrupted us.

She pulled away, though I could tell it was with a great deal of reluctance. “Pizza,” she sighed.

I laughed and kissed her forehead. “Let me get it,” I said. I released Y/N and hurried into the shop, pulling my wallet from my back pocket as I did. I answered the door, exchanging the money in my hand for the pizza in the confused delivery man’s hands. He gave me the impression that seeing me paying for the pizza was not what he’d expected. I smiled, tipping him generously. I set the pizza on the counter so I could re-lock the door, spotting the small refrigerator as I did. On my way back to the garage, I grabbed two more beers.

Y/N was waiting for me at a desk in the corner. She dropped a wad of napkins to the desktop and pulled a folding chair over, sitting in the chair next me, so close our knees were touching. I put my hand on her leg, just needing to touch her and she didn’t seem to mind.

We sat together, eating in companionable silence, Y/N finishing before I did. She got up and started pacing. I could tell she was nervous, so I just let her move, knowing the best thing I could do was let her walk off whatever was bothering her. She finally came to a stop next to the Impala, her fingers reaching out to run delicately along the trunk, over the roof and down to the hood.

I finished my pizza and beer as I watched her run her fingers lovingly over my car. I set my empty beer bottle on the table and rose from my seat, crossing the garage so I could be closer to her.

There was something about her touching my car that was much hotter than I’d thought possible. “I like watching you with my Baby,” I murmured.

“I like your Baby,” she laughed, smiling at me over her shoulder.

I chuckled and opened the back door of the Impala. I slid onto the leather seat and held out my hand to Y/N. I wasn’t quite sure what I was doing, I was just in the moment, going with my gut. I liked this girl, liked her more than I would have thought possible considering I’d just met her this morning. I knew that I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could before I had to go.

She took my proffered hand and let me pull her into the back seat. I put my arm over the back of the seat and brushed my hand over her shoulder. I took her chin in my hand and pulled her lips to mine. I needed to kiss her.

Y/N leaned into my side, snuggling up against me. I curled my arm around her, holding her tight. She fit perfectly in my arms, like she was meant to be there. I rested my hand on her thigh, just below the edge of her shorts and traced lazy circles over her leg with my fingers. She shivered in my arms.

“Cold?” I asked, just before sucking gently at the sensitive skin at the juncture between her neck and shoulder. God, she tasted amazing.

“No,” she whispered, tilting her head to the side, giving me easier access to her gorgeous skin. “Nervous.”

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” I murmured. “Just say the word and I’m outta here.”

She shook her head and I breathed a sigh of relief as I continued kissing her neck. Then, as if she wanted to prove to me that she didn’t want me to leave, she slipped her hand under my shirt and traced a line with the tip of her finger along the edge of my jeans, causing heat to pulse through me and my cock to immediately harden.

I slid my hand from her waist and up her side until it was resting on her breast. I caressed it gently through the fabric of her t-shirt. She leaned into my hand as I touched her and I knew I wanted more. I forced myself to move slow, letting her take the lead. I wasn’t about to mess anything up with this woman.

I felt her fingers slip into the waistband of my jeans and then she was unbuttoning them, fumbling slightly as she pulled down the zipper. I could feel myself growing even harder under her touch. When she traced the tip of her finger over my erection I nearly lost control. God, I wanted her hands all over my body.

I moved the two of us so we were stretched out across the back seat and she was lying beneath me, a groan leaving my mouth at the feel of her body under mine. I pushed her shirt up and over her head, then I slipped my hands around her back, unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor. I took her breast in my mouth, gently suckling the nipple, pulling it between my teeth.

Y/N’s back arched and her hands slipped into my hair. She pulled me close, her body language telling me she was definitely enjoying the things I was doing to her with my mouth. I moved my hand down her stomach, until I reached the buttons of her shorts. I easily popped each one open, then I sat up, crouching between her legs. I took hold of the waistband of her shorts and tugged at them, pulling them past her hips. I couldn’t stop staring into her gorgeous Y/E/C eyes.

She smiled at me, lifted her hips, and helped me to remove the bothersome denim. I slid them off, loving the feel of her skin under my hands as I pulled them down her legs. Once I’d dropped her shorts to the floor to join her other clothes, I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was beautiful, absolutely stunning. I couldn’t believe that this woman was giving me the chance to be with her. Forget the fact that she was beautiful, she was probably one of the smartest women I’d ever been around, she was funny and most importantly, she made him feel normal.

I leaned over her and kissed her, my eyes closed, enjoying the moment. "You’re beautiful,” I murmured. “So beautiful.” I kissed her again, and I suddenly felt the need to touch her, to show her what being with her meant to me. I let my hand drift up her thigh and then I was rubbing her slowly through her lacy black underwear. I found her clit almost immediately, teasing it with the soft, silky fabric of her panties. Impatiently, I pushed her underwear down, and let my fingers graze gently over her folds before slowly sliding a finger inside of her, pumping it in and out very carefully.

Y/N moaned, the sound shooting straight to my cock. I closed my eyes as her hand slipped beneath my underwear and grasped me firmly. Her thumb swiped over the tip of my erection, then it slid down my hard shaft. When she tugged slightly and twisted her hand, moving back up my length, I bit my lip, stifling a groan. She did it again and I never wanted her stop. I pushed my length into her hand.

“Oh God, Y/N, don’t stop,” I begged. Her touch was better than I’d imagined.

I slid another finger into her, thrusting them in and out as I pressed against the sensitive nub of nerves. Her touch was driving me crazy, she was doing things to me with her hand that were making me tremble. I needed to taste her, to feel her lips against mine, so I kissed her, pushing her lips open with my tongue, tasting and exploring every inch of her mouth. Our hands seemed to be everywhere, touching each other in every intimate way imaginable. I knew I couldn’t last much longer, that I needed to be inside of her, so I pulled away, balancing myself between her legs. Y/N moaned in protest at the loss of my touch. I knew exactly how she felt.

I fumbled in my back pocket, until I pulled my wallet free. Once I found the foil wrapped packet I wanted, I put it in Y/N’s hand before I took a hold of her waist and turned us so she was sitting on top of me. I sighed and closed my eyes. I could hear her opening the packet and then she was sliding the condom down my cock. My breath hitched in my throat.

Y/N leaned forward and put her hands on either side of my head. I took myself in hand and guided myself to her entrance. I slid into her, taking it slow, giving her time to adjust.

Once I was completely buried inside her, she began to move, rocking forward. I kept my hands loose on her hips, thrusting up into her. She clutched at me, her nails digging deliciously into my shoulders. We settled into a rhythm, me thrusting into her as she rocked against me. I loved the feel of her wrapped around me, the thought of her coming undone around me was killing me. I watched her as her head fell back, and her eyes closed and then her walls were clenching around my cock as she came. I thrust into her one last time, my cock twitching as we climaxed together.

I was out of breath and i didn’t want to move, but I did manage to pull Y/N into my arms. I laid her across my chest, pulling her face close to mine because I  _needed_  to be able to kiss her, to feel her breath mingling with mine, I wanted her hands touching me, while I ran mine over her exposed skin. We laid together for a long time, content to be in each other’s arms.

I knew I needed to leave, sooner rather than later. Even though I’d called Sammy, he’d be wondering where I was and I couldn’t leave him hanging much longer. After all, duty called. Finally, I pressed my lips to her forehead. “I should probably go,” I murmured.

Without saying a word, Y/N sat up and pulled her clothes back on. I did the same. I wanted to say something, anything to make this easier, less painful, but nothing would come to mind.

Once we were both dressed, Y/N stepped out of the car, with me right behind her. I slammed the door closed and pulled open the driver’s side door. I pulled her into my arms and leaned her against the side of the Impala, avoiding the inevitable.

“Thanks for helping me take care of Baby,” I said. “I think she likes you.” I kissed her softly on the lips. “I know I do.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. But I didn’t want to retract them once they were out there. Surprisingly, I didn’t mind that she knew how I felt.

She smiled at me, but I saw the tear that was sliding down her face.

I pressed my palm to her face and wiped the tear away with my thumb. “Don’t cry, okay?” I whispered. “You just gave me one of the best days I’ve ever had in my life.” I couldn’t believe I’d actually admitted that, put it out there for her to hear. But it was true. Today had been a good day, a  _normal_  day, something that was very rare for me. And it was because of her, she had been the reason.

I kissed her again. “Always remember that,” I sighed. I pulled her against my chest, hugging her as tight as I could, not wanting to let her go. If I didn’t go now, I wouldn’t go at all. I pressed a quick kiss to her temple then I turned and climbed into Baby,slamming the heavy door.

I watched as she opened the heavy garage door and stepped back. I couldn’t look at her as I drove past her into the dark night. If I did, I’d probably stop Baby, get out, and never leave.

* * *

“Dean?” Sam’s voice floated through the car, trying to get my attention. “Dean?”

I shook myself free of the memory that seemed to constantly haunt me. “Yeah, what?” I grumbled.

“If you don’t get over, you’ll miss the exit,” he said.

I glanced at the signs as they flashed by. I hadn’t even realized we’d entered the Minneapolis city limits. I checked my rearview mirror and changed lanes.

“You okay?” Sam asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” I snapped. “Quit asking me, for Christ’s sake.” I shifted uncomfortably, the memory of my time with Y/N had stirred up more than just my emotions.

I took the exit Sam indicated. He’d found us case, a couple of dead bodies at an auto auction, and I was anxious to get started. Maybe I could occupy myself with something other than thoughts of a certain female junkyard mechanic. A smart, sexy, beautiful, perfect junkyard mechanic who had been on my mind constantly since the day we met. Except I knew that even working a case wouldn’t help. Nothing had helped.

Y/N was in my head and she wasn’t going anywhere. And the thing was, I wasn’t sure I wanted her to.  


	2. The Auction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your father sends you to a car auction in another city. You certainly weren't expecting to run into Dean while you were there.

You stepped from the cab in front of your hotel, pulling your suitcase with you. You paid the driver and hurried inside. You had some time before you had to be at the auction and you wanted to take a quick shower. Four hours on a plane left a person feeling kind of gross.

Fortunately, check in went smoothly, so you were in your room and in the shower with plenty of time to spare. You even had time to wash and dry your hair, before slipping on your favorite jeans and an Iron Man t-shirt, then your worn out black Converse.

You loved it when your dad sent you to the auto auctions, not only did you get away for a few days, but it also meant that he trusted you with something important to him. It was almost as good as leaving you in charge of the junkyard and garage while he was out of town. Plus, you knew he respected your opinion and your business sense when he let you make important decisions like purchasing cars to sell or to use for parts. So when he’d suggested you make the trip to Minneapolis for the most recent auction, you’d jumped at the chance.

As an added bonus, you were hoping the trip would help to get your mind off of a certain green-eyed stranger. Being around the garage was a constant reminder of the day you’d spent with Dean, a day that was burned into your brain forever. You couldn’t forget what he’d said before he got into his gorgeous black Impala and drove off.

_“Don’t cry, okay?” he’d whispered. “You just gave me one of the best days I’ve ever had in my life.” He’d kissed you again, sighing as he did. “Always remember that.” He had pulled you against his chest, hugging you tight, then he’d pressed a quick kiss to your temple before hurriedly turning and climbing into his car, the heavy door creaking as it slammed closed._

You certainly hadn’t forgotten it. It still felt like it had just happened, sometimes you could almost feel his lips on yours, his hands on your skin or his body moving beneath yours. You shook yourself free of the memory, putting it away for later. Thinking about Dean would inevitably lead to tears and frustration, it almost always did, and you didn’t have time for that. You glanced at your watch. You needed to go or you wouldn’t have time to look at some of the cars before the start of the auction. You grabbed your worn out leather jacket from where you’d thrown it on the bed and hurried from the room.

Your father had booked you a hotel just down the street from the event center holding the auction, so you were able to walk. You checked in and took your number and paddle to the huge convention area, one end filled with cars, the other dominated by a huge stage where the actual auction took place. You took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of oil and exhaust. You were literally in heaven.

You wandered the aisles, knowing that eventually a car would catch your eye, one always did. Your dad had always told you that you seemed to have a knack for finding the “needle in a haystack,” that one that was special, that everyone seemed to overlook or blow off as unworthy.

You were so engrossed in searching the vehicles that you didn’t hear the bell signaling the start of the auction. By the time you realized that the voices surrounding you had faded noticeably, you were completely alone in a far corner of the huge room. Now you were going to get one of the crappy seats in the back.

You were rushing down the makeshift aisle between the cars, eyes down, your mind on how you would find a decent seat, when you heard the sound of a revving engine behind you. You glanced over your shoulder, but you didn’t see anything or anyone. You turned back around, but you heard it again, louder and closer. You stopped and turned around, your eyes drifting over the cars, trying to see which one had someone in it or even near it. Nothing. You were beginning to think you were imagining things, except you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease you felt creeping up your spine.

You forced yourself to stop and take a deep breath before you completely freaked out. You put your head down and closed your eyes, waiting for your heart to stop racing. When you opened your eyes, you noticed your shoe was untied. You crouched down to tie it and that’s when you heard the revving engine again, along with the squeal of tires. You looked up, right into a pair of bright headlights, so bright you were blinded. You froze, just like the cliched deer in headlights, confused and unable to move as something bore down on you.

Suddenly, you were tumbling head over heels, a hard body pressed to your back, strong arms encircling your waist. Your shoulder hit the hard concrete floor and tears sprang to your eyes as your head grazed the front bumper of the Ford pickup you rolled to a stop beneath. Whoever had pushed you out of the way was lying sprawled over you, their weight heavy on your chest. Your hands rested lightly on the arms that were still wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes squeezed closed, trying to push the pain in your head and shoulder away. You tried to make sense of what had just happened. Had a car really just tried to run you down inside a convention center?

The weight pushing you into the floor shifted and moved, though you could still sense someone leaning over you.

“Y/N?” a deep, very familiar voice whispered from above you.

Your eyes snapped open. “Dean?” you murmured.

Dean sat up, pulling you with him. “What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, his grip tight on your shoulders.

“The…uh…the auction,” you stammered. “I’m…I’m here for the auction. What are you doing here?” You stared into his green eyes, searching for an answer.

Dean hurriedly pulled you to your feet, catching you as you stumbled. His eyes were darting everywhere, barely glancing at you. “We need to get you out of here,” he muttered.

“What is going on?” you asked. You looked around for the tell-tale signs of a car speeding through the building - tire tracks, screaming people, chaos. But there was none of that. You could hear the auctioneer’s voice coming from the other side of the building and you could see people milling around the seating area. But nowhere did you see an out of control car barreling its way through the crowd. “Why…what…where’s the car?” you finally managed to spit out.

“There is no car,” Dean replied. “Well, not one that you can see anyway.” He took your elbow and pulled you down a narrow aisle between the cars, toward the back of the convention center.

“What? What’s that supposed mean?” you asked, looking back over your shoulder. “Where are we going?”

“Dean!” you heard another male voice yelling from the direction you were headed. Over the top of the cars you could see a tall, shaggy haired guy dressed similar to Dean. He was gesturing wildly toward a set of double doors. Dean turned toward him, pulling you along until the two of you caught up to him and then you were falling through the door alongside both men into a large hallway stretching endlessly in both directions.

Dean pulled you against the wall next to him, his arm now around your waist. He ran a hand over your face and the spot where your head had hit the truck, concern written in every line of his face. “Are you okay, Y/N?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing repeatedly over your cheekbone.

At a loss for words, all you could do was nod. You couldn’t believe he was standing in front of you, his hand on your face.

“Dean?” the other man asked.

“Sorry,” Dean mumbled. His hand dropped from your face, but he kept his arm around you. “Y/N, this is my brother, Sam,” he said.  “Sam, this is Y/N.”

“Y/N?” Sam said, obviously surprised. “The Y/N? The one you told me about, the one who knows as much about cars as you, the one you spent the best night….”

“Yes, Sam,” Dean snapped, cutting him off. “That Y/N.” He glared briefly at his brother and then up and down the hallway.  “So, where are we?”

“Back hallway of the convention center,” Sam answered, suddenly all business. “But we need to get out of here. Now.”

The brothers moved as if they were one entity, charging down the hall as if they were trying to escape something, you in tow. Sam popped opened doors as they ran, until he found the one he wanted. Dean pushed you through it ahead of him into a small parking lot, his Impala in the back corner. He took your hand and before you knew what was happening, you were stuffed in the front of the car between the brothers. Dean started it and pulled out of the parking lot, around the building and onto the same street your hotel was on.

“Dean, what the hell is going on?” you asked again.

He looked over your head at his brother, then he ran a hand over the back of his neck. “Uh…it’s hard to explain…” he finally mumbled.

“Try me,” you snapped. “I was apparently almost run over by an invisible car, which doesn’t seem to be bothering you at all.” You looked between the brothers. “I just want an explanation.”

It was uncomfortably quiet for several minutes, the only sound the rumble of the Impala’s engine. Sam finally broke the silence. He spent the remainder of the drive telling you stories about things that went bump in the night and how all of those things were real. Real enough to kill you. Vampires, werewolves, monsters, ghosts and angry spirits, which was what had tried to run you down. And despite the fact that what he was telling you was completely unbelievable, for some reason, you believed him. You didn’t know if it was the sincerity in his voice, what had just happened to you, or a combination of the two, but you took him at his word. By the time he was done talking, Dean had parked the Impala in front of a rundown motel on the outskirts of town.

You followed the brothers from the car into one of the rooms. Sam immediately sat at a small table on the far side of the room in a tiny kitchen area and opened a black laptop. Dean took your hand and led you to one of the two beds in the room, sitting you at the end of it. He crouched in front of you, your hand held loosely in his.

“You okay?” he asked quietly.

You shrugged, biting your lip. “I guess,” you whispered.

He moved until he was sitting next to you and slid his arm around your waist. He put his hand on your leg and rubbed it gently. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“For what?” you murmured. “For saving my life? None of this is your fault, and if you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead. At least according to your brother.” You nodded toward Sam who was engrossed in something on his computer screen. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

“This is going to sound crazy - ” Dean said.

“As opposed to what?” you laughed. At this point, nothing seemed crazy.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Okay, point taken. I was going to say that even though it sounds crazy under the circumstances, I am really glad to see you.” He squeezed your waist. “Really glad.”

You smiled, suddenly feeling very self-conscious. You’d never expected to see Dean again, in your mind, your encounter was just a very memorable one night stand. Knowing he was glad to see you made you feel something you weren’t expecting to feel. You could feel a blush rising in your cheeks.

Dean leaned over and lightly kissed your cheek. “Sammy and I are going to figure this thing out,” he explained. “Until we do, you stay here. I don’t want you anywhere near that auction. It’s not safe. Okay?”

“But - “ you mumbled.

He put a finger to your lips. “No buts,” he said. “Humor me.”

You nodded. You weren’t happy about it, but since he and his brother were apparently the experts, you’d defer to them. “Okay,” you agreed. “On one condition.”

“And what might that be?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Kiss me,” you whispered. “Please.”

He smiled and leaned over you, taking your chin is his hand. He brushed his lips over yours and you were sure that would be the end of it, after all, his brother was just feet away. But then his other hand snaked up and curled around the back of your head, pulling you close. He nibbled at your lower lip and when you opened your mouth, his tongue darted in, tentatively at first, then with more force. In seconds, the kiss went from soft and innocent to hard and demanding. A low groan slipped from his lips and you sighed in response. The world narrowed to just you and Dean.

Sam cleared his throat, pulling the two of you back to reality. “Hey Dean,” he said. “I think I found something.”

Dean placed another kiss on your lips before crossing the room to join his brother. He pulled a chair up beside him and the two of them leaned over the laptop, quietly talking.

Your mind wandered, trying to figure out what you were going to tell your father. He wouldn’t be happy that you’d come all the way to Minneapolis and not even gone to the auction. There was certainly no way you could tell him the truth, he would never believe you. You’d just have to hope for the best.

Hours later, Sam and Dean ushered you back to the Impala. While Dean drove, Sam explained to you what their plan was. He kept calling it a simple salt and burn, and that the hours of research had been him trying to discover exactly who it was they had to dig up. You didn’t want to ask what that meant.

“What about me?” you asked once Sam stopped talking.

“You are going back to your hotel, where it’s safe,” Dean answered. “And I want you to promise me you will stay there. No matter what.”

One look at Dean’s face and you knew he was serious. “I promise,” you said.

Dean parked the Impala in front of your hotel a short time later. He took your hand and helped you from the car. He leaned over and muttered something to his brother, then walked inside with you. He took your room key from your hand as you stood side by side in the elevator, neither of you speaking. He followed you down the hall, unlocked your door, and stepped just inside, holding the door open with one foot, the other still in the hallway.

“You’ll stay here, right?” he asked again.

“I will, I swear,” you replied. You brushed your toe over the edge of the carpet, suddenly nervous.

Dean took your hand and gave it a gentle tug, easily pulling you into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his waist and laid your head against his broad chest.

“It was good to see you, Y/N,” he murmured against your hair. “I just wish it had been under different circumstances.”

“Me too,” you sighed.

He took a step back and looked at you before he leaned down and kissed you softly on the corner of the mouth.

“Take care of yourself,” he whispered and then he was gone, the door closing in his wake.

You needed a beer. Hell, you needed a lot of beers after today. You called room service as you slipped off your jacket and dropped it to the chair. You could feel the tears threatening as you surveyed the empty room. You snatched the remote off of the bedside table and hurriedly turned on the television, hoping to distract yourself.

The local news was on. You left it playing as you stepped into the bathroom and washed your face. When you heard the name of the convention center come from the other room, you stepped out of the bathroom in time to catch a news story about several mysterious deaths that had occurred there. The police had no leads and they were asking for witnesses to come forward.

You briefly wondered if you should call. That would be an interesting conversation, trying to explain the car that was there but not there. No one would ever believe you. You finally decided to just let it go, hoping Sam and Dean really could take care of it.

Once your beers and food arrived from room service, you stripped down to your t-shirt and underwear, even slipping your bra off and adding it to the pile of clothes in the chair. You opened the first of what you hoped was many beers and climbed onto the bed, kicking the covers around with your feet until you had them like you liked them.

You changed it from the news to some boring movie and stared at the television, not really paying attention to what was happening on the screen. Your mind was replaying every second of the time you’d spent with Dean, storing it away so you could pull it out later. It was all you would have to remember him and just like the first time you’d been together, you’d save those memories to pull out when you were alone, when you were missing him.

You sat through at least two movies and some badly acted sitcom, and drank three beers as the clock silently ticked past midnight, one a.m. and then began creeping toward two a.m. You were considering trying to get some sleep when you thought you heard a quiet knock at your door.

At first you thought you might be imagining things, or that it had just been someone wandering the halls, after all, you never knew what you were going to find in hotels at almost two in the morning. Except you heard it again. You slid off of the bed and tiptoed to the door. You leaned against it, listening, but there was nothing. You peered through the peephole, praying no one would be there, that your imagination was in overdrive from everything that had happened. Except someone was there.

Dean.

Your fingers fumbled at the lock and chain, not able to open it fast enough. You threw the door open and practically leapt into Dean’s arms, senseless words falling from your lips.

He chuckled and pushed you back into your room, shoving the door closed behind him. He was cold, like he’d been outside for awhile, and he smelled like wind, sweat, and smoke.

“What are you doing here?” you asked.

“I wanted to see you before we left,” he answered. “I only have a couple of hours and then we have to go. South Dakota.” He captured your lips in his, a soft, easy kiss. “Sam made me promise, no more than two hours.” He kissed you again, sighing. “No more.”

“I heard you the first time,” you giggled as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I know,” he muttered. “I’m trying to remind myself.” He released his hold on you long enough to pull off his jacket and button down shirt. “Are you trying to kill me? Answering the door in your underwear?” he growled. He pushed you toward the bed toeing off his boots as he did and kicking them away. He reached behind himself and pulled a gun from the waistband of his jeans, setting it on the bedside table.

You climbed onto the bed, Dean right behind you. He stretched out next to you, pulling you into his arms and kissing your neck. His hands moved under the edge of your shirt and onto your back, pulling you so your body was flush against his.

You sighed as you slid your hands under his t-shirt, running them over the taut muscles of his stomach and chest. “God, I missed you,” you sighed.

“I know,” he murmured against the skin of your neck. “I can tell.”

You couldn’t help it, you started giggling. You buried your face against Dean’s chest, the laughter consuming you.

When the laughter finally died away, you looked into Dean’s amused face. He was shaking his head, a small smile on his lips. “Are you done?” he asked. “We’re on the clock here.” Suddenly, he started laughing as well. “That sounded bad,” he chuckled. “Sorry.”

“No, you’re right,” you mumbled. “You have to leave soon and I’m wasting what little bit of time we have together.” You wrapped your fingers in his t-shirt and pulled him to your lips. “So kiss me.”

Dean did just that. His lips crashed into yours, his tongue pushing into your mouth, swiping across yours. You groaned and pushed his shirt up and pulled it over his head. He did the same to yours, throwing it over his shoulder once he’d removed it from your body. He ran his hands impatiently over your almost naked body as you fumbled at the button on his jeans. Once you had them open, you pulled the zipper down, hooked your fingers in the waistband and yanked on them, though they didn’t budge.

“Problems?” Dean asked, his lips busy at your throat.

“Nope,” you replied. You sat up and when he tried to follow, you pushed him back down. He grinned and laid back, his hands propped behind his head as you sat on your knees between his legs and tugged at his pants. You pulled them off completely, throwing them over your shoulder, mimicking what Dean had done with your shirt earlier. He laughed, grabbing your hands as you reached for his boxers, and pulling you down on top of him. He kissed you and you could feel him growing hard beneath you. His fingers slipped inside your underwear, gently caressing your folds. You moaned as his thumb brushed across your clit, your hips rocking forward to meet his questing fingers.

Dean took a hold of your waist just as he slid a finger inside you, moving you so you were lying on your back, brushing your sweet spot as he did. Your back arched and you pressed down on his hand as another finger slid into you. He took your breast into his mouth, biting gently at the nipple with soft nips and tugs until you were squirming beneath him, whimpering and begging for more.

“Dean, please…” you breathed.

He smiled and pulled your underwear completely off, followed immediately by his, before moving over you. He pressed a gentle kiss to your lips as he slid into your warmth with a contented sigh. He moved, slowly, his hips barely tipping forward to meet yours, holding back, delaying the inevitable. Your nerve endings were on fire, every fiber of your being screaming for the release you knew was coming. Your hands clawed at Dean’s hips, urging him forward. With a hard thrust, he finally entered you completely, every inch of his considerable length filling you. You moaned and you felt Dean smile as his lips burnt a fiery trail from your neck to ear.

“God, Y/N, you feel so good,” he whispered. “Even better than I remember.” He nibbled at your earlobe, his thrusts becoming harder and faster.

Your hips snapped up to meet his, your hand twisting in the short hairs at the nape of his neck and your lips licking and sucking at his throat. You felt the familiar tightening in the pit of your stomach as Dean pushed you higher and higher, and then you were engulfed in the most amazing orgasm you’d ever experienced - all bright white light and fireworks, the pleasure bursting through every part of your body.

He caught your lips in his, his hands tangling in your hair as he held your head between his hands and kissed you, pumping in and out of you, moaning into your mouth as you climaxed, pulling him with you as you held him tight against your body, milking his cock dry. He groaned, thrusting hard one last time as he let himself go.

Dean pressed his forehead to yours and rained gentle kisses over your cheeks, nose and mouth. He wrapped you in his arms and rolled to his side, keeping you tucked under his chin, tight against his chest. He held you, kissing you and whispering tender praises in your ear.

You were surprised when you felt yourself dozing off. You didn’t want to sleep, you wanted every possible second you could get with Dean before he had to leave you again. You forced your eyes open and pulled his mouth to yours, kissing him roughly.

“I know, baby,” he whispered. “I know.” He let you kiss him, your hands holding his arms as he brushed his fingers carefully over your face.

The two of you laid together, cuddling, until Dean, quietly and without words, slipped out of the bed. You watched him as he gathered his clothes and stepped into the bathroom, coming out a few minutes later fully dressed. He tucked his gun in the waistband of his jeans before leaning over the side of the bed, resting on his elbows and taking your hands in his. He kissed your forehead.

“I gotta go,” he whispered.

“I know,” you said quietly. “I don’t want you to.”

Dean tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear. “I know,” he said. “I’m sorry.” He kissed the tip of your nose. “God, I wish I could stay, I really do.” He brushed a finger down your cheek, tracing his thumb over your lips and staring into your eyes. Abruptly, he stood up, grabbed his jacket from the chair where he’d thrown it and walked out the door without looking back.

You sat up, letting the sheet pool in your lap. You couldn’t believe how badly this man had gotten under your skin. You still didn’t know his last name, for God’s sake. You stared at the closed door, knowing that this was the way it had to be, but wishing it didn’t.

You had no idea how long you sat there, staring at the door, but eventually, you reached over and turned off the bedside lamp, laid down and pulled the sheet back over yourself, Dean’s scent filling your nostrils.


	3. Sometimes It's Not a Monster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You save the day.

“Y/N? Y/N?” you heard your name being yelled from the other side of the garage.

You rolled out from beneath the ‘69 Mustang you were working on and sat up. You could see Carl, the other mechanic, gesturing to you from the office door, the phone in his hand, an irritated look on his face.

You pushed yourself to your feet and wiped your hands on the rag you kept tucked in your back pocket. You weren’t really in the mood to talk to anyone, but with your parents out of town again, that responsibility fell to you. Neither Carl nor the part-time mechanic your dad had hired were very good with people, they certainly hadn’t been hired for that purpose, so you got to deal with the junkyard’s patrons.

“Who is it?” you whispered loudly as you took the phone from Carl.

“I don’t know, some guy,” he shrugged. “But he asked for you.” He grabbed his socket wrench from the counter where he’d set it and hurried back to the car he’d been working on.

“This is Y/N,” you said, using your best professional voice.

“Um…hi, Y/N, this is uh…Sam,” the person on the other end of the line said. “Sam Winchester. Dean’s brother?”

Your heart skipped a beat and your breath caught in your throat. You grabbed the office door and pulled it shut, then you closed your eyes and tried to concentrate.

“Of course, Sam,” you answered. “How are you?” Your calm tone belied the fact that you were mentally screaming.

“I’m okay,” he replied. “Um…you haven’t seen Dean, have you? In the last couple of days, I mean.”

“No,” you said. “I haven’t seen Dean since Minneapolis. Why? What’s wrong?”

You could hear him sigh through the phone and you were pretty sure he was debating how much to tell you. After a couple seconds of silence, he finally spoke.

“Dean left three days ago to see you,” Sam explained. “We’re only about two hours away and after debating with himself for hours about whether or not he should drive over and see you, he finally decided to just go. He told me he’d only be gone for one day, thirty-six hours at the most. I haven’t seen or talked to him since. He’s not answering his phone, any of his phones, and, well…you haven’t seen him either, so….” He trailed off, but you could hear the concern in his voice.

“Could he have gone somewhere else?” you asked. “Maybe he was going to see someone else?” The thought made you sick, but you said it anyway.

“There is no one else, Y/N,” Sam said. “Just you. Look, just do me a favor, okay? Call me if you hear from him.” He gave you his number, which you jotted down on the notepad by the phone.

“I will, I promise,” you said. “And Sam? Please let me know when you find him. I just…I need to know he’s okay.”

Sam promised to call you once he’d heard anything from his brother. You slipped into the chair at the desk after the call ended; you needed a minute to wrap your head around this.

Dean had been on his way to see you. You couldn’t get that out of your head. You hadn’t seen him since the auction in Minneapolis, though he’d constantly been on your mind. You’d hoped and prayed everyday that he’d show up, but with everyday that passed, that had seemed unlikely. Hearing from his brother that he’d been coming to see you had been one of the best things you’d heard in a long time. Of course, that was shattered as soon as Sam had said Dean was missing. You put your head in your hands and tried not to cry in frustration.

“Y/N?” you heard Carl say from the doorway. “You okay?”

You looked up and tried to force a smile onto your face. It didn’t seem to be working. “No, um, I don’t think so,” you said. “Um, I just got some news about a…friend. He’s, uh, missing.”

“He?” Carl asked, his face impassive. “Boyfriend or something?”

“He’s a friend, Carl,” you spat out. “And I’m worried about him.”

“I’m sorry,” Carl said. “Do you want to talk about it? I have great shoulders to cry on.“ He smiled hopefully at you.

“No,” you replied. “I just need to stay busy.” Typical. Carl never passed up a chance to ask you out. It was starting to get on your nerves.

You pushed the chair back and stood up, determined to focus on something other than Dean and the fact that he was missing. “What do you say I help you with that Dodge?” you said to Carl, pushing past him to enter the garage. “Let’s get that bitch running.”

* * *

You tried to act like everything was fine, that you weren’t consumed with worry about Dean. You’d helped Carl drop a new engine into the ‘71 Dodge Challenger he’d been working on, then you and the other mechanic had cleaned up the garage and locked up, just like any normal day. You’d gone home, eaten something and showered, then you’d tried to watch television. When that didn’t work, you’d tried reading a book. That didn’t go so well either. You knew there was no way you were going to be able to fall asleep, so you’d grabbed your keys and headed back to the junkyard. If you couldn’t relax, at least you could get some paperwork done.

That was why you were sitting in the back corner of the garage at one a.m., the only light the dim office lamp on the battered desk, shuffling paperwork around and trying to concentrate. What you were really doing was worrying about Dean and wondering if Sam had any idea where he was. You picked up your cell phone and pulled Sam’s number from your pocket, staring at it, curious if calling him was out of the question.

You were just about to dial your phone when you heard the Impala pulling into the yard. You would have recognized the sound of Dean’s car anywhere, anytime. You were out of your seat and at the door in a heartbeat, ready to yank open the door and throw your arms around Dean. At the last second, something stopped you. It might have been Dean’s voice in your head warning you to be careful or the complete lack of logic for Dean to show up here, at the junkyard, at one in the morning. You slid to a stop as the door began rolling up on its tracks. You ducked behind the shelves of tires by the heavy rolling door, making sure you slid your phone into your back pocket and that you were completely hidden in the shadows.

The garage door finally came to a stop and the Impala pulled inside. The engine cut out, the driver’s side door opened and Carl stepped out, calling your name.

You shrank back against the shelves, your hand over your mouth. Why was Carl here, now? Why the hell was he driving Dean’s car? And where was Dean? You gripped the shelf behind you, forcing yourself to stay put, though you wanted to scream at him to tell you where Dean was.

Carl slammed the car door hard enough to make you flinch. He went around to the back of the car and opened the trunk. He leaned over, an angry scowl on his face.

“Y/N’s hiding somewhere, Dean,” he said. “But I’ll find her. I know she’s here, her car’s out back.” He ran a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. “This would have been so much easier if you hadn’t shown up and ruined everything. She and I would be together and none of this would have happened.”

Carl looked around the garage, his eyes flicking past you and finally settling on the dimly lit desk in the corner. He left the open trunk and hurried to the back corner of the garage, stopping at the desk you’d previously been sitting at to rifle through the papers. He opened the door to the inner office, yelling your name, and stepped inside, the door swinging shut behind him.

Once he was gone, you slipped out from behind the shelves and hurried to the Impala. Dean was lying in the bottom of the trunk, tied up and gagged. His gorgeous green eyes stared into yours. He had cuts and bruises all over his face and neck and his gray t-shirt was caked with dried blood. His jeans were torn with more blood splattered on his legs and across his boots.

“Oh my God, Dean,” you whispered. You slipped the gag off and untied the rope around his feet.

Dean pushed himself up and climbed from the trunk, stumbling forward when his feet hit the ground. You grabbed his arms to stop his fall, barely able to hold him up.

“Y/N, you can’t be here,” he whispered. “You need to go.”

“What do you mean, I need to go?” you said. “It’s my junkyard. Dean, what is going on?”

He ignored you, instead he held his hands out so you could untie them. Once the ropes dropped to the ground, he rubbed his wrists before putting a hand to his side and flinching in pain.

“We need to get out of here,” he said. “Your car is out back?”

“Yeah,” you nodded.

“Do any of these run?” he asked, indicating the three cars parked in the garage.

“No,” you answered. “Dean, seriously, please tell me what is going on?”

He didn’t get a chance though, because the door in the back of the garage flew open, slamming into the wall.

“Shit!” Dean barked. He took your hand and yanked you through the open garage door, running into the dark bowels of the junkyard.

You could hear Carl hollowing in anger and things crashing in the garage as Dean pulled you down one of the rows past the junked out cars. He ran with you in tow, twisting and turning, up and down the aisles. You knew this place like the back of your hand and you weren’t even sure you knew where you were. You could hear Carl behind you, yelling and screaming your name, his voice fading as you moved deeper into the junkyard.

You could see Dean’s head whipping back and forth, examining every vehicle the two of you passed. He turned down another aisle, then he abruptly stopped. He pulled you around the back of a VW bus sitting on four flat tires, it’s front end smashed to oblivion. He yanked open the side door and ushered you inside.

You climbed into the van, Dean right behind you. He laid across the bottom of the van, pulling you down beside him, his arms around your waist. He pressed his mouth to your ear.

“Stay quiet, okay?” he murmured.

You nodded and buried your face against his chest, your hands resting on his stomach. You tried to take deep breaths, to keep yourself calm, but you could feel your hands starting to shake. You squeezed them together, trying to stop the shaking. You felt something wet and slick and in the dim light filtering into the van, your hands looked like they had black streaks on them. You looked up at Dean and for the first time you noticed the way his brow was drawn down in pain and how his lips looked tight and pinched. You put your hand back on his stomach and felt him wince,

“You’re hurt?” you whispered.

“I’m fine,” he nodded, placing a finger to your lips. “Now hush.”

Outside, you could hear the faint sound of boots moving across gravel and the sound of car doors being opened and closed. Eventually the sounds faded until you couldn’t hear anything at all.

Dean waited several minutes until he seemed sure that Carl wasn’t anywhere near your hiding spot, then he sat up, holding his stomach as he did. You followed suit, your hand resting on his shoulder, staying close to his side. He pushed your hair from your face and traced his thumb down your cheek.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” you murmured. “But you’re not.” You held your hands up, showing him the streaks of blood. “Let me look at it.” You reached for his shirt.

“Later,” Dean insisted, pushing your hands away. “We need to figure out how to get out of here. I need to get a hold of Sam.”

You smiled and pulled your phone from your pocket. “Try this,” you said.

He took the phone from your hand, then he wrapped one hand around the back of your neck. He pulled you to him and kissed you. then he leaned his forehead against yours. “Thank you,” he said.

He quickly dialed his brother’s number, holding your hand loosely in his as he waited.

“Sam?” he muttered when the phone was finally answered. “Christ, it’s about time. No, I’m alive. Barely.” He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye and squeezed your hand. “I’m at Y/N’s junkyard. I’ll explain later. How far away are you?”

Dean listened, nodding as his brother talked. “Alright, just hurry.” He disconnected the call and handed your phone back to you. “He’ll be here soon. Do not turn that off.”

“Now will you please tell me what is going on?” you asked. “What did Carl mean about he and I?”

“I wish I knew,” Dean growled. “When I got to town three days ago, I came straight here to see you, but Carl was the only one here. We were talking and I asked about you. He gave me some half-assed answer about you being out for a couple of days. I asked him to tell you I came by and then I left. Before I even got to the car, he’d knocked me out. I woke up in Baby’s trunk.” He pulled you into his arms and pressed his lips to your temple. “I’ve been either in the trunk or some dirty shed ever since.” His lips slid down your cheek, capturing your lips in his, kissing you.

“I’ve been so worried about you,” he murmured when he finally pulled away.

“Yeah, well, ever since Sam told me you were missing, I’ve been worried about what might have happened to you,” you responded. “It’s been so long…and after he called, I thought I’d lost my only chance to see you again.” You ran your hands over the cuts and bruises covering his face. “Carl did this?”

“He does not like me very much,” he whispered. “I don’t know if I’m too mouthy or if it’s because of you.” He kissed you again, your face cradled in his strong hands. “I’m a threat.”

“It’s probably because you’re too mouthy,” you murmured, a small smile on your face.

Dean chuckled, wincing in pain and grabbing his side as he did. You pushed his hands away and pulled up his shirt. You took your phone from your pocket and used the light from it so you could get a better look. Dean’s stomach and chest were covered in bruises, as well as a couple of deep cuts. You moaned and brushed your fingers over them, tears welling in your eyes.

“I told you he didn’t like me,” he mumbled.

When you felt your phone vibrate in your hand, you brushed the tears away and turned it over. “It’s Sam,” you said. “He’s just outside the yard, the gates are locked, he’s trying to find a way in.” You hurriedly texted him back, telling him about a broken section of the chain link fence in the southeast corner of the property.

“Alright, let’s go,” Dean said. “We’ll meet him over there.”

You followed Dean from the van, your hand in his, staying as close to him as possible. He led you back the way you’d come, skirting the garage and office as best as possible. You were finally starting to think you might be able to get out of the yard in one piece when something flew from the back of a totaled pickup truck and slammed into Dean, ripping his hand from yours and sending him flying into the side of a Chevy Chevelle.

Dean grunted as his back hit the car and he slid to the ground. Carl appeared in front of him, took hold of the front of his shirt and dragged him to his feet. He punched Dean, square in the jaw, then another to Dean’s already wounded torso.

He was getting ready to punch him again when you screamed Dean’s name and grabbed Carl’s arm, trying to pull him away. He shoved Dean away, swung around and grabbed you, his arm immediately wrapping around your throat as he backed away from the man on the ground.

Carl pressed his lips to your ear as he spoke. “Y/N, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he hissed. “You know you shouldn’t hide from me like that.”

“Carl, what are you doing?” you asked.

“I’m saving you from this guy,” Carl breathed into your hair. He pulled you tight against his body, his front pressing against your back. “But it’s okay now, because I’m here.” He reached behind himself and took a gun from the waistband of his pants.

You struggled, trying to get away, but Carl’s grip on you was iron tight. He wrapped his other arm around your waist and held you tight.

“Why the hell would you want to be with this loser, Y/N?” Carl asked, pointing at Dean with the gun. “I’m so much better than him. Better for you.”

“Carl, let her go,” Dean snarled.

“Oh no, playboy, I don’t think so,” Carl said. “See, she needs to understand just what you are, what you’re capable of. Has she seen what’s in your trunk? Does she know you could kill her?” Carl spun you around, his hands tight on your upper arms. “Don’t you understand, Y/N? He’s a murderer.”

You were crying, tears streaming down your face. You tried to pull away again, but you couldn’t. Over Carl’s head, you saw a very tall, shaggy haired man ducking behind a car. Sam. He was close, but not close enough.

Despite the hold he had on your arms, you were able to raise them enough to put them on Carl’s waist. You forced yourself to look him in the eye, to press your body against his. You swallowed around the lump rising in your throat and glanced over his shoulder at Sam again. He was closer, but he was being careful, trying to keep Carl from hearing him. You couldn’t wait.

“I’m…,” you blew out a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

A smile spread across Carl’s face and he released the hold on your arms. He rested his hands lightly on your waist. “Thank God,” he sighed. “I knew you’d understand that I was just trying to keep you safe.”

You moved your hands to his arms, sliding them down and placing your hands on his, your fingers lying on the cold metal of the gun. Carl leaned over you, his breath blowing across your face, and he kissed you. You fought not to cringe at the feel of his lips on yours. You choked back a sob and squeezed your eyes closed as his mouth moved across yours, his tongue pushing at your lips, urging you to open your mouth.

You opened your mouth to him at the same time that you wrapped your hand around the gun in Carl’s hand and yanked it free. You stepped back and pointed the gun at Carl’s head.

“Y/N, what…what is this?” he whined. “I don’t understand.”

Sam stepped up behind him and brought his gun down on the back of Carl’s head, knocking him out.

You didn’t bother to check him, you just turned on your heel and sprinted to where Dean was struggling to his feet, holding on to the side of the Chevelle he’d landed on. You dropped the gun to the ground, flung your arms around his waist and buried your face against his chest, the sobs finally breaking free.

Sam appeared at Dean’s side, tucking his gun into his jacket. “He’s out,” Sam said. “What the hell is going on, Dean?”

Dean shook his head. “It’s a long story,” he answered. He took hold of your chin and turned your face up so he could look at you. “Look at me, baby. I need you to take out your phone and call 911, tell them you need help.”

* * *

You were stuck with the police for hours. Once they’d arrived on the scene and arrested Carl, you’d thought that would be the end of it. But an officer had been dispatched to his house, where they’d found enough evidence to put Carl away for quite awhile - stalking, harassment, child pornography, even evidence of kidnapping. Turns out you weren’t the first woman Carl had become obsessed with, but it looked like you would be the last. You’d ended up at the police station, giving a statement.

When you’d finally been able to leave, you’d called the part-time mechanic and had him close the yard for the day. You’d answered your mother’s frantic voicemails, assuring both of your parents that you were fine, though you weren’t sure that they believed you. Once you’d taken care of the stuff that had to be taken care of, you pulled up the text message you’d received from Dean while you were with the police. You punched the motel’s address into your GPS and pulled out of the station parking lot.

You knocked on the door of the motel Dean and Sam were staying in fifteen minutes later, your foot tapping impatiently. It only took a few seconds for the door to open, Sam standing in front of you, tucking his gun into the waistband of his jeans.

“Hey,” he said. “How’d it go?” He pulled the door open the rest of the way and gestured you inside.

Dean smiled at you from one of the two twin beds. He was only wearing a pair of jeans, his torso tightly wrapped in bandages. He had a cut on his arm that had been stitched up and another on his chest, just under his collarbone. He looked like he’d been hit by a truck.

“Jesus, Dean,” you said, dropping your purse to the table and hurrying across the room. You gingerly sat on the bed next to him, your hand going to his face. He held your hand to his face, smiling.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “What happened?”

You quickly filled in the brothers about Carl’s arrest and what the police had found at his home. Neither of them seemed very surprised.

“Friggin’ people,” Dean muttered. “Crazier than monsters.” He put his arm around your legs and pulled you next to him, his arms wrapped around you, cradling you against his chest. He sighed as you settled against him.

“I’m gonna go grab some food,” Sam smiled. “You two behave while I’m gone.”

You laughed as Sam grabbed the keys and left the room, the door closing quietly behind him.

“God, I missed your laugh,” Dean said, nuzzling at your neck with his nose. He placed a kiss to the hollow of your throat. “I missed the way you smell, the way you smile, I missed everything about you.” He moved up your neck, along your jaw and to your lips, kissing you gently.

You wrapped your arms around him, pulling yourself tight against him, kissing him enthusiastically. You were so absorbed in kissing him, you almost missed his wince of pain.

“Sorry,” you murmured, loosening your grip on him.

“Broken ribs,” he whispered. “Have to behave myself.” He kissed your neck, his hands running up and down your body.

You moaned as his hand settled on your breast, massaging it slowly. “That’s not behaving yourself,” you sighed.

“I know,” he said, falling back onto the pillow. “But I’ve really missed you. This started out as a trip to see you, not to get beat up and held hostage.”

“I know,” you said. You kissed his cheek. “I missed you, too. You’ve been on my mind everyday.”

“Yeah,” Dean smirked. “You like me that much, huh?”

You punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t tease,” you laughed. “And yeah, I like you that much.”

Dean took a deep breath and ran his fingers through your hair. “I like you that much, too.”

“But not enough to stay with me?” you murmured.

Dean sighed, turning to face you and resting his forehead against yours. “Y/N, that’s not a fair question,” he said. “You know….”

“You’re out saving the world with your brother, I know,” you mumbled. “But…what about you? What about what you want? What about saving yourself, Dean? You once told me I gave you one of the best days of your life and it was just a  _normal_ , nothing-exciting-happened kind of day. Don’t you want that? A chance at normal? I could be that chance for you.”

“Y/N,” Dean lamented. “Please don’t do this.” He kissed you on the corner of your mouth. “I can’t leave my brother and I sure the hell won’t ask you to leave what you’ve got here, not to come with me, not to be a part of the crazy life I live. For now, can’t you just be my normal when I need it?”  

Dean’s face was filled with a pain you’d never seen before, a pain you hadn’t even imagined existed. You couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t take away what he had with you. Not when you loved him like you did.

“Yes,” you said, nodding vehemently. “Just forget I said anything.”

You snuggled up to him, breathing in his scent, catching his lips in yours. You pushed everything else away, determined to enjoy what little time you could get with Dean, determined to give him that slice of normal he craved. Everything else would have to wait.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally part 3, but due to something weird on Tumblr, the original part 1 is gone. It was written before I started using Google docs, several laptops ago, so it's gone for good. I've rearranged the series to accommodate the missing piece.


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